


Circle Time

by Lyras



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-26
Updated: 2011-08-26
Packaged: 2017-10-23 02:06:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/245045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyras/pseuds/Lyras
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for Disc_fest and originally posted <a href="http://disc-fest.dreamwidth.org/13288.html">here</a>. Thanks to bethbethbeth for organising the fest, and to MiraMira for beta-reading. All errors are my own. Discworld and its characters belong to the wonderful Terry Pratchett.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Circle Time

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Disc_fest and originally posted [here](http://disc-fest.dreamwidth.org/13288.html). Thanks to bethbethbeth for organising the fest, and to MiraMira for beta-reading. All errors are my own. Discworld and its characters belong to the wonderful Terry Pratchett.

The circles are everywhere.

They scatter in the meadows, in the castle garden, and in Black Aliss's gingerbread cottage, which Esme haunts when she can. They appear in the back yard of Mustrum's aunt's house, in the forest, and once, very embarrassingly, in his thatch of hair.

Mustrum notices them, but only out of the corner of his eye. The centre of his vision is full of Esme; Esme with her blonde hair plaited into corn rows, her decided chin and her eyes that soften just a little when she looks at him.

He might even forget magic if he gazed into those eyes for long enough.

Esme, on the other hand, feels as if the circles -- or is it Mustrum? -- are tearing her in two. She has so much to learn, and everyone around her has so little to teach. She wanders from one person to the next, gleaning their learnings and moving on.

Mustrum could teach her plenty; he's the only person she's met who could. Even the witches of the Ramtops only have so much knowledge to impart. But Mustrum knows wizarding, and that's a different magic, whereas the Queen...

The Queen could teach her everything -- everything on the Disc and beyond. But Esme isn't stupid. She can see there's a price to pay; she can smell the hunger on the Queen's breath. She knows there's a reason for the stones, just as there is for the circles.

To know everything; to be the greatest witch in the history of the Disc. That would be something, wouldn't it? And yet, if she gazed into Mustrum's earnest face for long enough, perhaps she could forget all that.

She spends hours with Mustrum because he's interesting, because he opens up a different life to her and -- if she's honest -- because that sleepy smile of his wrenches at her heart. But she never lets things go too far, and she always ensures that she's wearing sensible shoes so she can run when he gets too close.

She hovers beyond the Dancers, talking with the Queen because she's fascinating and dangerous, and because thinks she might learn things. But she never gets too close.

Until the day when she does.

***

 _You could be a great witch. You could be anything,_ the Queen says sweetly, and Esme says...

She says yes, and the Disc becomes beautiful and terrible, filled with the laughter of elves and the fear of all other creatures. It happens, not instantly but gradually, which is worse, edging at her consciousness, until she sees what she has become, sees what she has made of the world, and despairs.

She says yes, and the power of the elves spreads out from Lancre like a vicious stain across the Disc. And Esme can't fight, would never fight, because she knows she is nothing -- less than nothing, more insignificant than a speck of dust in Jason Ogg's forge. She deserves her eternity of pain, and she will have it.

She says yes, and the elves murder her, so that she does not live to see what they make of the world into which she has allowed them. But if she did live, she would see Lancre turned into the snowbound lair of the elves, transformed into the point around which all life on the Disc revolves. She would see her people treated as pets and prey; she would see her fellow witches snuffed out one by one; she would watch the defiance ebb away. She would see Mustrum hunted down in the snow, caught by an arrow from his own quiver. And he would lie dreaming of different lives until his last view as he died was of her, of Esme -- but it wouldn't be Esme. It would be the Queen playing Esme, because that's the kind of game the Queen likes to play.

She says yes and lets the elves in. And when she has become the most powerful, most terrible witch in the history of the Disc, she pushes them back beyond the iron. And she lives out the rest of her life cackling, safe in the knowledge that she is unsurpassable, while around her the Disc reasserts itself.

She says yes, and when the elves strike she is ready. Because she is Esmerelda Weatherwax and she knows who is right, and she _definitely_ knows what is wrong. The elves are banished; the circles subside; all is well.

Or she says no.

***

 _We could build a life together,_ Mustrum says humbly, and Esme says...

She says yes, and they settle on Mustrum's farm, where he hunts and she grows herbs and tends to the bees behind the house. They have a boy and a girl, who play safely in the fields, free of elves except at circle time, until they grow up: the boy to travel far, until he returns to marry the blacksmith's daughter and take on the forge; the girl to become the most powerful witch on the Disc. Esme and Mustrum die old, weary, but still in love, with great grandchildren to warm their souls. And if they miss the wizarding and the witching, it's a good life, a satisfying life for them both.

She says yes, and they settle in Lancre, because Mustrum loves the hunting and Esme has her eye on the witching. They have no children, and Esme sometimes wonders if the magic got in the way. At any rate, she can focus on witching, on borrowing, on headology, and she can forget about the iron, except at circle time. Mustrum goes up to Ankh Morpork sometimes; he is a big name at Unseen University because he is there so rarely. But he always returns to his beloved Esme, and they are happy.

She says yes, and a fire sweeps through their home just after they are married, killing them both.

She says yes, and another witch with an over-developed sense of pride lets the Queen through, and Mustrum dies and Esme dies and their children die and all is lost.

Or she says no.

She says no: she says no, although so much of her wants to say yes, and on other Discs and in other realities things play out as they will.

On this Disc, Esme parts from Mustrum for fifty years, learns witching for fifty years, until a new king marries at circle time.

Yes.

No.

Yes.

No.

Esme does her witching; Mustrum does his wizarding.

He writes, and she reads and keeps him locked up in her heart.

The iron holds, even at circle time.

Yes.


End file.
